The is the last installment of my short story, "The Hardest Thing to Know." I hope you have enjoyed reading this piece as much as I have enjoyed sharing it with you. Please leave me your thoughts below.
“He can’t even protect you” the master whispered.
Now, he was
behind her and inhaled her scent. She turned to flee, but he caught her arm.
Her tribeswoman’s words played in her ears. He grabbed her around the waist and
threw her to the ground. She scrambled up and lunged for the door again only to
meet his arm around her waist again. This time he climbed on top of her. She
scratched at his face and managed to kick him. She fought the woman’s words
away as she fought with her master. He landed an intricate punch.
“I didn’t want
to have to do this,” she heard him say as her eyes rolled and her body
surrendered.
She awoke to the
night. Her naked body felt the soft linens. Her eyes beheld fine furniture and
soft candlelight. She saw her field clothes cleaned and neatly folded on a
chair. Her hands caressed the cowrie shell necklace her Man had made her before
the nets, ships, chains, and whips. Something was crawling around her
shoulders. She jumped, then realized it was her own hair unbraided and in its
full length and glory. She sat up in the bed and faced herself in a mirror, but
she did not know herself. Her mind finally held the weight of all that had
transpired and shoulders drooped. Now her mind was racing and her body was
dressing itself, then was running full speed towards her Shack.
She found her Man lying on his
stomach there, bloody. He had been fatally beaten, whipped, and there were
gashes and bruises all over his body. He was supposed to die. He looked as if
he were only sleeping. She began gathering materials to clean and wrap his
wounds. She could barely hold any of the cleansers. Her dark, thin hands were
shaking and boiling hot tears ran heat all over her face. She realized the
wounds were already cleaned. He let out a heavy sigh and the wounds began
scabbing before her eyes.
He was dreaming.
He saw them together in their old village. She was pregnant and he was walking
with a little boy with her eyes. He was telling them stories of his travels in
other times. Then, he saw himself running to the mansion. He saw the four white
men sitting on the porch descend the steps. He clenched her machete and waited
for them to approach. He heard the gunshot and felt the pain in his neck. He
charged towards them only to be met with more gunshots. He kept charging and
felt the whips on his back. He cut the whips and a few of the white men with
his machete. He felt the bullet enter his skull. Then, he saw an Elder standing
over him in his Shack with a bloody bullet in her hand. Then, he saw darkness.
She raced from
the Shack, and back around the field the wind was whipping through her dress
and her hair. Her loneliness began to creep around her and slowed her run. She
began sobbing as she walked toward the beach. She felt the cool water caress
her toes and she walked toward the current. She was the last of the tribe in
this hell and she was no longer pure. The tips of her hair kissed the salty
water. Her Man had been tortured to the point of death. She had nothing else to
offer anyone. Not herself or her Man. She was standing under the water. He
would have a better life without her. She knew she would love him again in
another time and place. As she inhaled deeply and gave up the ghost, the cowrie
shell necklace floated towards the shore and rested in the sand.
A sharp pain
raced up the Man’s back and he sat up abruptly. He could feel her spirit
floating around him, but he had to be sure. He had no patience for running, so
he flew to the beach. His heavy body thudded as he landed at the very spot her
necklace laid. He did not need to see her body floating away from the shore to
understand her decision. He picked up her lonely necklace, wrapped it around
his thick wrist, then, turned toward the horizon and flew towards another time,
so he could find her spirit’s next home. Maybe, in this new place, they could
love again. Because the hardest thing to know is that in some times, love is
not enough.